Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 14

change.”
    â€œMe too,” Stone said.
    â€œOh,” Dino said, holding out the photos of Pemberton, Weatherby and Robertson, “you dropped these.”

    S ir Winston Sutherland seated himself in duBois’s chair in Colonel Croft’s large office. The photos on the wall were still those of Croft with various dignitaries; nothing of his replacement’s had been added. He looked up at Colonel duBois, who stood uncomfortably before the desk. “You blithering idiot,” he said.
    â€œPrime Minister…”
    â€œYou knew who those people were; Colonel Croft investigated them days ago, and he even sent an agent to Ms. Heller’s flying school to verify her identity.”
    â€œPrime Minister…”
    â€œSo while you were wasting time throwing your newly found weight around, Croft’s murderer is still out there, if he hasn’t already left the island.”
    â€œPrime Minister…”
    â€œAnd on top of that you somehow managed to allow a woman who was handcuffed to free herself and handcuff you !”
    â€œPrime Minister…”
    â€œWell, at least I got a good laugh out of that little scene in the interrogation room,” Sutherland said, chuckling.
    â€œPrime Minister…”
    â€œDuBois, you are no longer a colonel. I wish you to dress in the uniform of a police captain and continue your investigation into the assassination of Colonel Croft, and you are to wear that uniform at all times when you are on duty. Is that perfectly clear?”
    â€œYes, Prime Minister, but…”
    â€œGet out, and by the way, this is no longer your office.”
    DuBois saluted, executed an about-face and left the room. Back in his old office he got out his uniform, which still displayed his major’s gold leaves, then changed them to his old captain’s bars, then he armed himself with a pistol and an Uzi machine pistol and left.
    â€œYour car is waiting out front,” his secretary called after him.
    DuBois walked out the front door of police headquarters to find his driver seated in an elderly, dusty and banged-up Land Rover.
    â€œGood afternoon, Col…uh, Captain,” his driver said.
    DuBois got in and tried to roll up his back-seat window, but it was stuck. “Get me out of here,” he said.
    â€œWhere, to, Captain?”
    â€œ Get me out of here! ” duBois screamed. As they drove aimlessly down the roads of St. Marks, duBois entertained himself by fantasizing about what he was going to do to Ms. Virginia Heller when he found her again.

46
    T eddy Fay stood on a cliff at the eastern end of St. Marks and watched the waves crash against the rocks a hundred feet below. He didn’t want to do this, but he had considered the alternatives, and there weren’t any. He couldn’t allow himself to be caught or even questioned with it in his possession.
    He went back to his vehicle, opened the case and looked at the sniper’s rifle one last time. He had done all the gunsmithing on that weapon, made it into the precision tool it was, and he loved it the way some men loved an old dog.
    He snapped the case shut, looked around to be sure he was entirely alone, then stood on a boulder embedded in the top of the cliff and imagined himself flinging the case as far as he could, then watching it sink in the deep water. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Teddy trudged to his vehicle, started it and began to drive back.
    As he drove up Black Mountain Road, he caught a glimpse in his rear view mirror of an old Land Rover entering the road at the bottom of the mountain. It was not a police car, but Teddy automatically paid attention to every vehicle behind him. He was beginning to sweat as he continued up the mountain; there was only the one road, and his escape plans did not include a close pursuit by anybody. But the vehicle stayed well back.
    Then, to his enormous relief, the Land Rover turned into the driveway of the Pemberton house. He continued to his own drive, then garaged the vehicle, removed the rifle case and let himself into his underground bunker in the house’s old cistern.
    Teddy did not believe that he would be caught or have his identity discovered by anyone, let alone the clown, duBois, whom he knew Croft had distrusted. Croft had been the kind of man who preferred his subordinates to be loyal but only marginally competent, and duBois fit that mold perfectly; he was the other viper in the nest